


our new home

by poetictragedy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Sibling Incest, Underage - Freeform, hinted - Freeform, talk of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetictragedy/pseuds/poetictragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sam is sixteen and mute; Dean's twenty)</p>
<p> Sam and Dean run away from “home” and their father because of abuse reasons and go to live with Bobby Singer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our new home

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice is quiet as he walks into the room, eyes surveying the damage done. There’s a table knocked over in the corner, a lamp smashed beside the bed, and most of their stuff is strewn across the room, piles of clothes laying everywhere. A sinking feeling overwhelms Dean and he swallows thickly, shutting the door behind him before stepping further into the trashed motel room. Once more, he calls out for Sam and walks toward the bathroom door, stepping over clothes and one of Sam’s shotguns.

When Dean steps closer to the bathroom door, he hears the sound of something pinging against the sink. His stomach turns when the noise comes again and Dean wraps his hand around the doorknob to turn it, only to find that the door’s locked. “Sam?” Dean’s voice is even quieter than before and he presses his forehead against the door, closing his eyes as he takes a deep, shaky breath. “Open the door, it’s only me.”

There’s another noise from behind the door and Dean twists the knob again, not surprised when it actually turns and the door opens. Blinking his eyes open, Dean steps into the bathroom and looks at Sam, noticing the fresh cuts on his cheek, and the coloring around one of his eyes. His heart drops when he sees the kid and he shuts the door, locking it quickly before stepping toward Sam, his hand lifted a bit.

_It was dad_ , Sam signs and flinches when Dean’s fingertips brush along the cut on his cheek.  _He came to pick me up from school and brought me back.._  Sam’s hands are shaking so badly that he has to stop and they fall to his sides easily, fingertips trembling against his jeans. Dean nods, his brow furrowing as he presses against the skin around the cut before turning to the sink. He sees what made the noise in the sink: bullets for his 45. Swallowing thickly, he grabs a washrag and takes the bullets out of the sink, setting them on the lip before wetting the rag.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Dean mumbles as he turns, pressing an end of the rag against the cut underneath Sam’s eye, biting his lip when the teenager flinches. “I should have been here, Sammy.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, washing Sam’s wounds with careful fingers, dropping the bloody rag into the sink when he’s done.

_It’s not your fault_ , Sam holds his hands in front of his chest, wide, tear-rimmed eyes locked on Dean’s. _It’s my fault for not putting the shotgun away_. Tears fall down Sam’s cheeks as he signs and he moves his hands, grabbing two handfuls of Dean’s shirt, pulling him close. There’s a noise like a sob that escapes Sam’s throat and Dean sighs, wrapping both arms around him, resting his head against Sam’s.

“It wasn’t your fault, baby boy,” Dean whispers, moving his hands up and down Sam’s back slowly, clenching his eyes shut. The thought of killing his father comes to the front of Dean’s mind and he swallows, setting his jaw tightly as he holds Sam as he cries against his chest. Sam’s shoulders are shaking and Dean tries to calm him down—he hums  _Hey Jude_ , like their mother used to, and that seems to ease Sam’s shaking and stop his crying.

They ease apart and Dean puts his hands on either side of Sam’s face, cradling it gently, teeth grazing over his bottom lip worryingly. “Where’s dad now?”

_Went out to the bar,_  Sam signs and then wipes tears away from his eyes quickly before continuing, _said he’d be back at midnight or later. Told me to tell you not to wait up, it’d be a waste of time_.

Of course John was out at a bar, Dean thinks to himself and nods, dropping his hands from Sam’s face as he turns to the cabinet over the sink. He grabs the first aid kit without saying a word and grabs a couple of bandaids, resting the kit on the edge of the sink. Turning back to Sam, Dean gives him a small smile and places one of the bandages between his lips as he opens the other one.

_Dean?_  Sam’s fingers are trembling as he looks from Dean’s face to the bandage between his fingers, watching him pull the plastic off it.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean mumbles and throws the little plastic flaps down onto the floor, bringing the bandaid up, placing it over the cut underneath Sam’s eye, watching him carefully.

Looking back up at Dean, Sam chews on his lower lip and sighs heavily.  _I hate him._  After he signs, Sam looks up at Dean, expecting him to say it’s wrong to hate your father and that it’s not  _dad’s_  fault he’s like that—it’s the drinking, or the job, or the demon.

Instead, Dean laughs and takes the other bandaid out from between his lips, opening it quickly. He lets the plastic flaps of that one fall to the ground too and puts it on the cut on Sam’s other cheek. “I hate him too, Sam.”

_Then why are we still here_? Sam motions to the tiny bathroom and crosses his arms over his chest, shifting all his weight to one leg. It’s a question Dean’s asked himself before and he moves half a step back and just looks at Sam, his eyes grazing over the kid’s busted up face. With a heavy sigh, Dean shrugs his shoulders and lifts a hand, raking his fingers back through his hair slowly.

“I dunno, Sammy - I guess ‘cause we don’t have anywhere else to go.” He’s got his eyes locked on Sam’s and the kid shakes his head, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Confused, Dean tilts his head to the side and raises a brow, looking at Sam with an expectant look.

_Bobby said we could stay with him_ , Sam’s fingers are shaking less now and Dean’s face falls; he shakes his head and drops his hand to the back of his neck, sighing heavily. He’s about to open his mouth and tell Sam that Bobby Singer does  _not_  want them, but Sam’s hands are already moving.  _I wrote to him, and I asked him if we could stay with him, if we needed to_.

“Jesus, kid,” Dean laughs and rubs the nape of his neck slowly, fingertips working in slow circles. “When did you do that? I don’t remember you ever writing to anyone..”

_When we were hunting that demon in Ohio last month,_  Sam’s smiling proudly at Dean and it breaks his heart even more.  _He said that, if it was alright with John, that we could stay as long as we want. Just gotta call him first._

“Is that what you wanna do?” Dean knows the answer before he even asks the question, but he’s  _got_ go ask if, in case Sam isn’t sure.

_I want out of here. I can’t stand that man hitting me or you, I wanna kill him every time he touches you, Dean._  There are tears in Sam’s eyes again and Dean chokes on a sob, clearing his throat before dropping his hand, taking one of Sam’s gently.

He thumbs across the smooth skin and looks down at the busted tile, gaze running along the cracks. It doesn’t take Dean long to make up his mind and he looks up at Sam, who’s holding his breath while he waits for an answer. “Alright, I’ll call him—you pack.”

Grinning broadly, Sam pulls his hand away and wraps both arms around Dean’s neck, burying his face against his brother’s shoulder. Taken back, Dean blinks and then loops his arms around Sam, pulling him close as he places a kiss to his hair. “Alright, alright—enough, c’mon. Pack everything you can,” he whispers and pulls away, “and then we’ll leave, alright?”

Sam nods and leans up, kissing Dean on the lips quickly. When he pulls away, Sam grins broadly and mouths the word  _oops_ , his cheeks turning red as he drops his arms away from Dean’s neck. Blinking, Dean just stands there as Sam walks back into the room, and he lifts a hand, brushing his fingertips against his lips; Sam had never kissed him - not  _first_  anyway - and Dean could feel his face burning, as well as other places.

Sam’s throwing their stuff into the duffel bags when Dean comes out and he watches Sam for a minute, before going to the telephone. He picks the entire thing up, pulls the receiver off of the cradle and holds it between his head and shoulder as he dials. When the phone starts ringing, Dean lets the base of the phone rest against his thigh and he wraps his hand around the receiver, holding it to his ear.

After three rings, a rough voice picks up. “Hello?”

“Bobby, hey - it’s Dean.” Dean’s voice is shaky and he clears it softly, turning his head away from the mouthpiece. There’s a short pause and then a hearty laugh on the other end and Dean lets out a sigh of relief.

“Dean, how ya doin’ boy?”

“Not so good, Bobby..” Dean looks over at Sam and watches as he stuffs a pair of jeans into one of the already-full bags. There’s a soft ‘oh?’ on the other line and Dean turns away from Sam, clearing his throat again. “Yeah, we - me and Sammy - need to come stay with you, if - if that’s alright.”

There’s another pause and Dean’s heart is racing, beating rapidly against his ribcage as his stomach twists, a wave of nausea flooding over him. He listens to Bobby draw in a deep breath and closes his eyes, muttering ‘ _please, please, please_ ’ under his breath.

“Does your daddy know you’re comin’ here?” Dean mentally curses and opens his eyes, looking at the mess around him. Another wave of nausea passes over him and Dean swallows thickly, drumming his thumb against the phone base.

“Yeah, of course - he’s sendin’ us up there,” Dean lies easily and his voice drops as he continues, “says he can’t handle takin’ care of us while he goes after the thing that killed mom.” Bobby makes a noise that Dean can  _only_  take as affirmation and he’s surprised when the older hunter agrees.

“Alright, yeah - you and Sam get up here as soon as ya can. I’ll get a room set up for each of you.” Bobby’s voice is gruff but somewhere in the undertones, Dean can hear a smile in there, and he breathes deeply, relieved.

He turns to Sam and nods his head, grinning broadly when Sam signs  _yes_  before going back to packing. “Thank you, Bobby—we’ll see you soon.” They say goodbye and Dean hangs up, setting the phone back onto the nightstand. When he turns around again, Sam’s got his jacket on and he’s handing Dean’s leather jacket to him, a smile on his face.

Dean takes the jacket and shrugs into it, making sure everything’s in there before grabbing one of the bags.  _We should leave him a note_ , Sam signs before grabbing one of the other bags, slinging it over his shoulder. Snorting, Dean shakes his head and walks toward the door, opening it for Sam.

“He won’t care what happened to us, Sammy.” Sam gives Dean a look of doubt but nods quickly, walking out of the room. Dean follows and shuts the door, not bothering to lock it because everything that’s in there is John’s and he doesn’t care what happens to it.

They walk to the Impala and Dean doesn’t say anything; he puts the bag in the back seat and shuts the door before climbing behind the wheel. Sam’s already in the passenger seat and Dean throws him a glance, smiling at him as he turns the engine on. After backing out of their parking spot, Dean sets off toward the highway and lifts a hand, flipping the motel off as it disappears from the rear view mirror.

The drive to Sioux Falls is quietly, save the low thrum from the radio and Dean’s occasional humming. It’s a twelve hour drive from where they were, and Sam sleeps the entire way, waking up only when Dean stops at a gas station. When he’s asleep, Sam makes small noises that are like grunts, and they worry Dean, who stops every couple hundred miles to make sure he’s okay.

By morning, they’re in Sioux Falls and Dean’s pulling the Impala into Bobby’s driveway, parking in front of the door. Sam’s still asleep, curled up by his side, and Dean’s almost tempted not to move until the kid wakes up. That  _was_  his plan, of course, until Bobby’s dog started barking and Sam stirred, clutching onto Dean’s shirt tightly.

“It’s alright, baby boy,” he whispers and smooths a hand over the back of Sam’s hair, smiling, “we’re home.” When Dean says those two words, he honestly believes that they’re home; it feels like they are, but of course, anywhere Dean goes with Sam is home.

Sam sits up and rubs his eyes, yawning before he turns to Dean, hands in front of his chest.  _Home_? Even his signing is sleepy and Dean laughs, nodding quickly before he leans forward, catching Sam’s lips with his own. They kiss slowly - and it’s mostly sleepy on Sam’s part - and Dean finally eases away, licking his lower lip before whispering, “Yeah—home.”

They climb out of the car and grab their stuff before heading up the porch. Dean knocks and brushes his hand along the back of Sam’s, smiling softly when Sam tangles their fingers together for a second. When the door opens, they pull their hands away and Dean swallows as he looks at Bobby, who’s wearing a grin from ear to ear.

“Sam, Dean.” He steps forward and wraps one arm around each brother, pulling them close for an awkward hug, which they return gratefully. They pull away and Bobby steps aside, motioning for them to come in, watching them as they step into the foyer and over the Devil’s Trap painted underneath the mat in front of the door. “It’s good to—” Bobby stops in his tracks and looks at Sam, a deep frown forming.

_What_? Sam signs and Bobby looks at Dean expectantly, obviously not able to read sign language. Dean’s torn between wanting to laugh and cry, but he does neither, just turns to Sam and he does it again.

“Oh, he said what, like what do you want?” It feels harsh to say it like that, but Dean can’t think of any other way to put it. He looks at Bobby and smiles softly, watching his eyes go soft before they flicker back to Sam, grazing over his face.

“What happened to you?” Bobby’s voice is quiet and Dean turns to Sam, who’s already looking at him with a confused expression.  _Tell him_ , he signs and nods when Dean signs back,  _are you sure?_  With a heavy sigh, Dean turns back to Bobby and lets his bag drop, landing next to his feet.

“Dad beat the crap outta him.” The words come out flat and Dean looks at Bobby with tear-rimmed eyes before chuckling dryly. “He beats the crap out of both of us, but Sam was the last to get it..” He winces as he speaks and shoves both hands into his pockets, watching the old hunter carefully.

“I thought you—”

“Yeah, well would you have let us come if I said he beat us?” Dean interrupts, his words coming out harsher than intended. “Or if you knew what else he did to us?”

Bobby blinks and swallows hard, nodding his head. “I would have threatened to kill that daddy of yours.” That makes Dean laugh, though he’s not sure it’s supposed to, and he walks forward, wrapping his arms around Bobby’s neck.

For the first time in a while, Dean lets go and sobs against Bobby’s shoulder, holding onto him for dear life. When the hunter’s hands move to his back, Dean jumps but Bobby shushes him—tells him it’s alright, that he’s not going to hurt him, and Dean believes him.

He cries for a good ten minutes before detaching himself from Bobby with another dry chuckle. Turning on his heels, Dean looks at Sam and sniffles, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Still tired, Sam?”

_Yes_ , Sam signs back and chews his lip,  _can I sleep with you?_

“Yeah—yeah, ‘course, Sammy.” Dean smiles and turns back to Bobby, taking a deep breath before he speaks, “Thank you for letting us stay with you. I just - just couldn’t take another day of being there, knowing what he’d do to Sammy or me..”

“Dean, it’s alright.” Bobby lifts a hand and squeezes Dean’s shoulder lightly, giving him a comforting touch as he smiles. “Go on, take your brother upstairs; last door on the left is the room I set up for you two.” Dean nods gratefully and pulls away, almost reluctantly, to grab his bag. Once it’s over his shoulder, he nods to Sam and starts to walk up the stairs, listening to them creak and groan under his weight.

When they get to the top of the stairs, Dean takes Sam’s hand and laces their fingers together before walking toward the end of the hall. He takes a left at the end and noses the door open with the toe of his boot, peeking his head in to take a look at the place. It’s clean and modest, with a bed big enough for two people in the middle, fitted with sheets that look brand new. That makes Dean chuckle and he leads Sam in, shutting the door behind them before dropping his things.

_This is home_ , Sam looks around and turns back to Dean, smiling.  _Our new home_. Dean nods slowly and smiles, his eyes red and still rimmed with tears as he watches Sam quietly.  _Dean._

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice is broken and he clears it quickly, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. Sam walks forward and takes both of Dean’s hands into his own, interlocking their fingers as he leans up, pressing his lips to Dean’s softly. A surprised noise leaves Dean’s throat and he kisses Sam back, slowly pushing him back toward the bed.

They ease away when Sam hits the bed and Dean laughs, pulling his hands away to remove his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He kicks off his boots, letting them disappear underneath the bed, before kissing Sam quickly. After the kiss, Dean climbs onto the mattress and pulls Sam down with him, wrapping both arms around him, tangling their legs together.

Sam moves his hand to Dean’s chest and signs _I love you_  against the fabric, chewing his bottom lip gently. Smiling, Dean takes a deep breath and brings a hand around, his fingertips dancing along the back of Sam’s, carefully tracing out  _I love you too_.

Sighing heavily, Sam nestles his head against the crook of Dean’s neck and closes his eyes, listening to his breathing. He drifts off quickly and is asleep by the time Dean starts humming  _Hey Jude_. The humming stops a few minutes later and Dean falls asleep with Sam wrapped up in his arms, head resting against his.

And for the first time in a long time, neither of them have nightmares; Dean doesn’t dream about John beating Sam, and Sam doesn’t dream about Dean being taken away.

Their first night in their new home is dreamless and Dean lets go of the burden of having to worry about their father and Sam - or what John might do.


End file.
